Valiant
by BuiltOnSin
Summary: What would it be like to see the same girl from nine years ago? Regardless of the past; what if you had to go through it all again just to save humanity? What if it costs you your life? Embark on this supernatural adventure in the point of view of Garry. -I decided to add my OC to the plot. Also this story contains many Lemons;You have been warned...-
1. Chapter 1: Red Rose, Brown Bangs

**Chapter One: Red Rose, Brown Bangs.**

I stood with my back against the cold brick wall of the café quite awkwardly; a cigarette finding it's way up to my lips. It seemed so quiet around me as the idle rush walked by. It was early in the morning however; I always come here on a Tuesday for a macaroon and coffee. Sometimes, I would even see a familiar figure walk in behind me. The same hair, and eyes…

I still remember that day, and I'm lucky to have survived, only with the help of a girl I hardly knew! She was gorgeous for her age, and our bond was so strong; I felt I couldn't leave her… But I had too.

This girl was nine-years old. I was a twenty-year old man.

But, that was years ago-nine to be exact. I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't remember me. The only thing I have left of her is a little handkerchief textile with the name 'Ib' engraved down in the corner with pink stitching. It had a gorgeous little lace around it's silk. It was tiny compared to my hand. I couldn't help but stare at it as memories flooded. The little girl handing me my tattered jacket, her and me both attempting to escape the hell hole we invaded.

Trying to escape from Mary's grasp.

I clutch the little cloth in my hands gently before setting it down in my pocket, and then I set my cigarette in the little ashtray holder, tossing it in. My hand turned, revealing the little scar from the glass I had cut myself on when I received the square fabric. I didn't bother with it as I automatically saw the same girl come my way.

She wore rather similar clothing like the girl from long ago, just enough to fit her however. A beautiful white button down blended in with her pale skin. A little scarf wrapped around her little neck, complimenting her skirt. They both clashed with her eyes, scarlet being her focus point. I could catch a little hint of a rose in her hair, which fell wonderfully around her frame. I composed myself as I just stared at her. She obviously wore a little eyeliner-not dare tainting her innocence of beauty.

Her slim body walked past me as she glanced at me, giving me a gentle smile and wave. I blushed the color of her eyes as hers met with my purple one-being the only one visible. I was caught. I couldn't help but wave back as I followed her into the café. She held a little book. I had seen the title, only barely. Valiant was the name. I could then feel my eyes widen. I've read that book before. It's far too inappropriate for words toward the middle. In fact, I remember that being one of the books we had found in the room of Separation. I could be over thinking though… I shook it off as she walked off with her order, the same thing I order, except no coffee, a frappe instead. She looked adorable as she looked at me once more, smiling.

I could hardly realize the woman at the cash register call "_Next_," for I was still stunned. I looked up reluctantly and ordered my usual. The cashier held her normal flirt face as she handed it and the receipt to me. I sighed as I saw the perk woman sitting in the corner like normal. I took in a deep breath and turned around.

I was going to talk to her.

I stood beside her table and expected her to look up. She seemed like she was enjoying the book. I glanced down at the thickness of the book. She wasn't far, seeming as she just started today. I smiled anyways and cleared my throat. Hesitantly she looked up, her slender finger sitting at the last word she read. "Yes?" She whispers, looking up at me. She sounded so sweet; I felt my cheeks burn.

"May… I join you?" I asked quickly, yet properly. She looked over at the seat, which I had already made friends with. The corner of her lips curved to a smirk with her eyebrows raised. I took a shaky breath, hardly realizing she hadn't even given me an answer.

She rolled her eyes a bit as she reverted them back to her book. I just stared at her, my macaroon becoming cold. She let her hand trail to her own, bringing it up behind the book as well. My lips turn absentminded.

She glances up and sees my buffoon smile. The brunette seemed rather freaked. Before trailing her eyes to my jacket, she points at it. "Sir…" I then see a struck of realization. I look with hope, as her fiery eyes are wide with concern, boring into mine. _Please be Ib, if so-please remember me!_

"Your jackets rather torn." Her tone was matter-of-fact.

I frown. She doesn't remember me, or she isn't whom I thought. "So it is, Ib…" The name slips.

I look at her face and she looks at me like a deer in front of a moving vehicle. She doesn't move a muscle, she doesn't breathe. "How do you know my name?" It sounded like a statement than a question. Then I blink. I had said Ib instead of ma'am like I thought.

"S-sorry ma'am?" There was my shovel; I had to dig myself out.

"You had said _Ib_. That's _my_ name. Therefore; how do you know it?" I was kicked back in.

"It's just, you remind me of a young woman I once knew…" While I spoke, her eyes flash to the little rose down at my jackets pocket. I knew this because of her action. She let her hand poke at the one behind her ear. I gaze at her.

"Garry…" She blinks as her eyes dilate back, as if being struck with reality. She then, and only then did she puppy dog the page of the book, setting it on the table.

My name had slid off like drool. I swallow the lump in my throat. "Sorry miss?"

"Garry." She mumbled. She didn't hear me, but she guessed my name again. I wave at her from the level of my flower to gain her attention. I have it. "Sorry sir! You were saying?"

I don't say anything. Neither does she. We exchange blinks and glance before I reach in my pocket, taking out the little material and set it on the table. The font faces up as she picks it up instantly. It was as if a child seeing something new for the first time, taking it, curious as ever while they look at it. Her eyes cloud over as she reads the name, over and over.

My name slips from her lips once more, more assured. It was Ib…


	2. Chapter 2: Dreamt of One Another

**Chapter Two: Dreamt of One Another**

"Miss! I say loudly, attracting both hers and others attention around us. She instantly looked at me with wide, teary eyes. I can't help but look back, feeling confused and sorrowful. She sets the fabric down and takes interest in the table. I then pick up the handkerchief quickly and had it to her; she takes it without response and dabs the little tears that fell from her face which was distorted from it by now.

I suspect she had remembered by now. "This was mine. Nine years ago," A black streak had formed on the pastel by now. "It was for my ninth birthday, and I hadn't seen it since the gallery." She looked back up, her lip quivering. "Because I gave it to you, Garry."

My heart sinks as she spoke, her beauty overcoming fear. "So you do think about me, Ib."

She scoffs a well-oiled laugh playfully. "I dream about you!" She notes this as she takes in some of her frappuccino before swallowing. "Just last night actually, I dreamt of a warm blue coat, welcoming when I awoke in that horrid place. Mary tried her best to kill us, actually being one of Guertana's many works... It's rather startling to think about it, but I always do. I can't help but remember. When I close my eyes I see purple eyes, and a pallet knife in Mary's hand..." She pauses. "Sometimes their nightmares as well... The pallet knife in _your_ hand instead, attempting to murder _me. _I always think about _you_, I just never thought of it when I saw you physically." She sighs, as if remembering hit a nerve.

I grin gently and she smiles, looking back down towards the table. I took the chance to notice her perfections and imperfections before I set a gentle hand on her exposed forearm. "Hey, now why do such beautiful women, destroy their faces with such ugly tears?" I asked before caressing them off. She jumps as my thumb does this and just continues to look down

"Thanks."

"You know, I still think about it too. Mostly about you though," I remove my stained hand from her face while she sniffles. "I was just scared to even say anything to you today because of it."

She nods as we finish out meals, engaging in very little conversation. I told her about my job-which was rather nothing, - She told me how she was planning on leaving to college in a couple of month. I just smiled. I loved the sound of her voice; it was so mesmerizing.

We both finished our macaroons and drinks by the next hour; a whole one being filled with conversation quickly before I arose. She then frowned, creating worry lines on her pale forehead. "What are you doing?"

I let out a hand. "Don't you mean, what are _we_ doing?" I offered a toothed smile as she grabbed my hand quite hesitant. Her free hand swooped up her book, mine picking up both of our mess.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

I know we kind of, just re-met and all. But I want to re-know you... Where we first met." I mumbled, smiling as I through the trash away, opening the door in the process. I was gentleman enough to let her go out first. She nodded thanks as I walked out behind her. "And I'll try not to keep you past curfew."

"Eleven PM." She remarked for my reminder. I smirked, surprised she wasn't freaked out with the thought of going back to the place that started it all. The gallery shall be the place we reconvene. I knew it was a bad place to go, it brought horrible memories to both of us! We just have to be careful with the people and pictures we look at.

If only I remembered which artwork it was... For God's sake, hopefully she does.


	3. Chapter 3: The Fabricated World

**Chapter Three: The Fabricated World**

I stared at Ib, whom was looking at the beautiful artwork standing in front of her. I couldn't help but wonder about her past. She seemed so heartbroken as the handkerchief sat out in her little shirt pocket; she was so joyful-yet sorrowful when she saw it once more.

I grabbed at her little hand as her slender fingers wrapped around mine. She squeezed it, as if examining it while her little eyes scowled at our entwined hands. She then looked back up at me, her expression softening while she smiled. She looked forward, reading about the "Hanged man" and how Guertana got the inspiration for it. It was just of a man whose foot was tied with a noose, upside down.

I could feel her lean into me; I blush lightly as she does this, hearing her sigh loudly, her face nuzzling into my jacket. I didn't read anything, just stared at the photo of the man; he seemed rather calm. Then, for only a split second, I caught a glimpse of an attractive female, about the same age as Ib. If not, a bit older. All I could notice was her face. Beautiful cloudy gray eyes and dark brown hair… It seemed her style was in layers, thinning out as it came to her length. She looked natural, make-up caked perfectly on her face to a point I could handle it. Then I noticed the swept bangs, similar to mine just not as outrageous, a little beauty mark dotting at her semi-hidden left eye. Eventually I was pulled back into reality when my arm was tugged out of its socket.

"Come on Garry!" I was jerked away from the photo down the hall to the headless mannequins, red blue and yellow dresses was the colors that they wore in a triangular formation. I reverted my attention back to Ib as she just gawked at them. She skimmed over the italics on the podium. "The race of independence," She read under the title, my eyes skimming over the many faces around us. There were strangely very few people. Where were we going anyhow?

"What a lack of originality right?"

"Indeed," I respond to the voice, pondering carefully I hadn't realized it was Ib talking to me. I wasn't responding to the description she read, just at everyone around me. All of the men glared at me, or so it felt as their Red eyes melted into my heart, searing at it painfully.

When a hand pried away from mine I blinked, looking reluctant and seeing Ib walk up to the Still Life on Table photo, the one of a pool table. I followed as the atmosphere changed dramatically, her body shaking nimbly. She had sensed the air as well. I let out an amused chuckle and wrapped an arm around her.

"Cold?" She nods.

"A bit."

I smiled before looking down an isolated hall. I walk down it carefully and stare at the cascading mural sprawled on the wall, standing back to gaze at all of it. Ib is hesitant to walk toward me.

"Garry," She steps forward, her little high heels echoing with each step on the sparkling pale floor. "I don't trust that canvas." She looks at me wide-eyed, I don't look back.

"And why not?" I whisper, wanting to add _it's just a painting._ But I didn't.

"It's just so… disturbing."

I look closer, just being an abstract painting of everything inside of the gallery in one huge painting. "Not entirely." I step forward and read the little white paper under the gold framing. "Fabricated World… Strange name." I move my fingers cautiously to the picture, seeing if it was true fabric.

Ibs voice was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4: A Dream I Can't Decipher

**Chapter Four: A Dream I Can't Decipher**

The scenery had changed juristically, I still can't decipher whether or not it was a dream, and everything seemed so vivid and real. The lights had flickered at least twice before the orchestral music that played in the background ceased. "Ib?" I call as I turned, it was rather quiet in the museum so I naturally called louder, hoping to catch attention. Still nothing.

There was nothing around for ease, no obnoxious breathing, just the idle sounds of annoying shuffles bringing me to the edge of insanity. I took a deep breath, passively walking down to the edge of the painting, my fingers gently caressing the gold as I walked. I could hear my own footsteps, begging for attention. Once meeting the corner, I heard a strange scream. The cry for help was owned by a female, obviously as I turned, gasping with fear build up. There was no one around, though I knew someone watched me from his or her post, the presence settling around me.

I had to continue, the lights busting in chorus, dimming in sync. I swallowed the lump in my throat, continuing without the hesitation and very little of the concern. The Dark Figure had meowed at me as I passed through, shaking it off as I go, feeling it was just a hallucination of mine.

But, why does this seem so surreal to me? It literally feels like déjà vu right now, like I've done it before in another life. But I haven't… Have I?

I walked down the corridors, which closed in and seemed so much farther than normal. Pictures would shuffle and startle me as I passed. I had to head downstairs, discovering that no one manned the desk. This was when I officially realized no one was here. "Ib!" I shout, frowning at the silence which pissed me off more. I then saw the door. It was pitch black.

And locked…

I tried the windows, receiving the same reply but with the help of some red liquid. It oozed as I stepped back, jerking my hands away as well, both of which were shaking by now. I was hopeless, left to investigate more.

I traveled the gallery twice, still without luck until finding my way back up the stairs. The place seemed to mock me as I groaned, panic striking me where it landed. I brought my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose, pondering and sighing out my stress.

I stood like that for minutes, wondering what the hell was going on, my blood boiling. Then the footsteps decided to become louder, but left a trail this time. I could literally see the shoes sole from the invisible man that had walked by. I just stood dumbfounded, staring at it.

They wanted me to follow them.

But what really concerned me was the color of the trail. Crimson like blood. I feared that's what it had been.

After plenty of personal therapy, I decided to try it, having no other options _but_ to follow. They continued, the feet picking up speed with each step, I didn't chase after them; instead I just calmly walked down the stairs to the big floor mural. I stared at it. "Abyss of the Deep," was the title. The business shoes just stopped here, the sound stopping as well. All I heard was the sound of my heart racing in my ears.

I gulped, looking left and right for any signs of turning back as my hand reached for the golden, velvet rope, picking it up as I urged myself. I stepped forward and turned enough to put the rope back.

But my foot slipped and I _fell_ into the painting. This time, I never woke up.


End file.
